


strawberry-sweet

by snowborn



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Creampie, Dirty Talk, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:02:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29598711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowborn/pseuds/snowborn
Summary: Hajime's recent promotion at work has been putting a serious damper on his and Tooru's sex life; Tooru has a plan.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 7
Kudos: 209





	strawberry-sweet

**Author's Note:**

> practicing writing nsfw in snippet-form bc i am absolutely terrible at keeping things short lol ??

\--

In hindsight, Hajime really should’ve expected Tooru to pull some shit like this after he had complained rather loudly about their lack of recent sex at dinner the other night. It’s not like Hajime was happy about it either; his favorite part of every morning was the sliver of time just after waking, shaking off the last vestiges of sleep with the warm weight of Tooru in his arms, and his favorite part of every night was nestling into the comfort of their bed with Tooru snuggled up behind him. 

His recent promotion had robbed him of both of these things, much to his extreme dismay, but the knowledge that it was temporary was what motivated him to part with the seductive heat of Tooru’s body every morning and what kept him focused on his work through his frequent late nights at the office. He had told Tooru as much, an assurance that this was an obstacle they could easily overcome with time, but Tooru had pouted about how this sex drought would surely kill him, _don’t you love me, Iwa-chan?_ pleading with his big doe eyes as if Hajime could resist. Years of being on the receiving end of Tooru’s charm had done absolutely nothing to lessen the effect it had on Hajime; he’d almost fallen for it that very same night, but his steel resolve kept him on the straight and narrow -- sex with Tooru was hardly ever a one-and-done deal and Hajime knew that if he gave in even once he’d be too exhausted to make it to work on time.

It was for the best, he tried to convince himself. But Tooru was far from patient.

When Hajime arrives home one night, he notices a change in the air. Everything in the apartment is exactly as it was when he left in the morning -- plush blankets draped over the sofa, coiled orange peels on the counter, full tea kettle on the stove. Tooru hadn’t responded to Hajime’s _I’m home_ , but that isn’t anything out of the ordinary; none of Tooru’s shows premiere on Tuesdays so he’s usually asleep by this time, splayed out like a starfish across the mattress until Hajime physically rolls him over to his side of the bed. 

_Ah_. What catches Hajime’s eye is the fluorescent shard of bedroom light spilling out into the hallway through the crack of the door. Tooru refuses to sleep with it on, claiming it reminds him of hospital lighting. He must still be awake.

Hajime toes his shoes off at the genkan and drops his suitcase by the door, moving toward the light like a moth to flame. As he approaches the bedroom door, noises begin to filter through the air and into the thick of his ears -- very familiar, needy noises that Hajime hasn’t heard in a while, much too long, and his body reacts almost immediately. His cock stirs against the pleats of his uniform pants as he pushes the door open all the way.

The harsh glare of the light floods Hajime’s vision, but after a couple of blinks all of his other senses come flooding back in technicolor. The scent of musk is thick in the air, mingling with a faint whiff of strawberry lube. Skin slapping wet skin fills his ears. Hajime wants to say something, anything, but his tongue is thick inside of his mouth, dry as cotton.

On the bed, Tooru on all fours -- facing away from the door, knees tucked up under him and plump ass high in the air, split by a glass plug (a gift from Hajime, some years ago). Tooru’s balls hang heavy and pink just above where he’s frantically jerking himself off, hand slick with lube and pre-come, punctuated by tiny mewls, high and thin in his throat. 

“ _Haaaah_ -jime.” 

“You really couldn’t wait, could you,” comes Hajime’s voice, deep and gravelly. Tooru’s half-lidded eyes widen just so, a mere flicker of recognition in his cloudy gaze before Hajime’s crossing the room, loosening his tie and pulling it over his head, stripping off his shirt and his pants and his socks and his briefs until he’s fully nude to match his beautiful boyfriend, whose impatience is about to pay off. He curls over Tooru’s back, his nerves zeroing in on each prickle of warmth where their bodies are connected, the whole divine stretch of him pressed to Hajime’s front, and reaches down to pull Tooru’s hand away from his cock, pinning his wrist to the bed beside his cheek. 

“Please, please, let me,” Tooru pants, hoarse, “I’m so _close_ , Haji, so close--”

Hajime presses his lips to the curve of Tooru’s ear, absorbing the tremor, impenetrable. “How long have you been at it, baby?” 

Tooru flushes cherry-red, trembling. Waiting. “An hour.”

Hajime smooths a steady palm over the expanse of Tooru’s skin, unblemished in the winter like the finest china, dropping sweet kisses along the porcelain column of his neck. All thoughts of the outside world vacate his brain to make space for Tooru, like instinct. “Don’t worry, baby, I got you,” he whispers into Tooru’s shoulder, kissing a blazing trail down his body until he’s kneeling behind him.

“ _Please_ \--” Tooru moans, but his voice breaks off.

“Oh, Tooru, look at you,” Hajime murmurs, reveling in the series of strangled gasps that pour from Tooru’s mouth like honey as he gradually pulls the glass plug out of him, inch by burning inch. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get over the sight of Tooru’s pink rim stretching around the widest part of it, the way his body is so trusting and pliant in Hajime’s capable hands, but the immediate aftermath is what steals Hajime’s breath every time -- the long, pale line of Tooru’s back, hands fisted in the sheets, face flushed red and teary as he pants into the mattress, and the crown jewel that is his slightly gaping hole, obscenely puffy and wet with lube. Hajime can’t tear his eyes away, and his mouth finally catches up with his brain as he runs a reverent hand over one of Tooru’s ass cheeks, spreading him even more to his hungry gaze, “God, look at you, baby. Your sloppy little hole is just aching to be filled, huh?”

“Iwa- _chan_!” Tooru wails, shuddering and tensing at the wave of desire that racks his body. Hajime watches Tooru’s hole twitch with sheer, unbridled want and reluctantly pulls away. The sharp plastic _click!_ of the lube bottle rings in the scant space between them as he drizzles a liberal amount over his cock, catching most of the excess in his palm. What little liquid slides through his fingers hits the bed with a muted drip, seeping into the fabric, strawberry-sweet. Tooru lets out a pained moan at the lack of contact and squirms around to glare at Hajime, who hangs back to admire the look of frustration in Tooru’s teary eyes, hand fisting slowly over his cock. 

“What is it, sweetheart?” Hajime croons, spreading Tooru’s cheeks again with a hand now sticky with lube, eyes fixed on Tooru’s sopping hole, clenching desperately around nothing. If he isn’t careful, his rapidly waning patience might get the best of him; he needs to hold out just a bit longer, just enough for Tooru to melt in his hands. “What do you want, hmm?”

“ _Nngh_ ,” Tooru moans weakly into the pillow. Hajime can see the exact moment when Tooru realizes that he’s jerking off to the sight of his hole because his back arches shamelessly, pushing his ass higher into the air, too far gone to feel embarrassed after an hour of edging. God, he wants to break him so bad.

“Use your words, Tooru.”

“F-fuck you, Iwa-chan,” Tooru spits, bitten lips wet with drool, and Hajime barks out a laugh, moving to nudge his cock between Tooru’s cheeks. That infuriating streak of stubbornness in Tooru makes Hajime want to fuck the daylights out of him. All in due time.

“I thought you wanted me to fuck you?” Hajime says teasingly, bumping Tooru’s rim with the thick head of his cock. Tooru lets out a ragged exhale, opening his mouth to retort, but Hajime cuts him off -- just drives his hips forward until he’s fully seated inside of Tooru’s molten heat.

Fucking Tooru raw is akin to some sort of spiritual experience, Hajime thinks faintly, swimming through the lust-induced fog of his brain. If he concentrates hard enough through the blinding white light behind his eyes, he thinks he may be able to see God herself. Every ridge and crevice inside of Tooru molds itself to his length, pulsing with the rabbit-quick thump of Tooru’s heartbeat in his intoxicating, velvety warmth. It almost distracts him from Tooru’s high-pitched keening, his pitiful attempts to form words around the cock in his ass, and it is this thought that brings Hajime back to the very important task in front of him. 

“Baby,” Hajime rasps. One hand digs into the meat of Tooru’s hips as he pumps his hips slowly, every shallow thrust pulling a whimper from Tooru’s slick mouth; the other snakes its way up the ridges of Tooru’s spine, past the taut set of his shoulders, to twine themselves in the soft thicket of chestnut at the base of his skull, already mussed from handling. He pulls out to the tip and slides back in ever so slowly, exhaling, “M’gonna stuff you full of my cock, Tooru.” 

Tooru’s airy, “ _Yes_ ,” into the pillow is all Hajime needs to hear before he drags his hips back and begins a steady pace, the slap of his thighs against Tooru’s echoing off the walls of their bedroom. He yanks Tooru’s head back, relishes in the strained _Ah, harder!_ it elicits as he rams his cock into Tooru, wanting to swallow him. Wanting to be swallowed up by him. Hajime can barely bring himself to speak, can barely think of anything past the heat engulfing his cock, and a rumbling groan tumbles from his lips as Tooru’s hole flutters around him. Neither of them will last very long now.

Half-swallowed by the mattress, Tooru’s feverish moans spur Hajime to move faster until he can feel the exquisite ache in his lower abdomen, the sweet sting of his balls slapping against Tooru’s ass, blooming pink from contact. He touches him everywhere; he wants to be everywhere. He angles his hips just barely and Tooru makes a sound like he’s been punched, thrashing under Hajime as he comes suddenly on the duvet. Hajime, merciless, continues to fuck him through his orgasm, pounding at his prostate until he pitches forward into the pile of pillows, arms giving out at last. 

Lying prone, Tooru’s hole clenches even tighter around Hajime, an impossibly hot vice-grip that has him thrusting frenzied until he comes with a stilted groan into Tooru’s sweaty hair. The feel of his cock twitching as he empties himself pulls a soft, vulnerable noise from Tooru’s throat that makes Hajime want to fuck him again, but they’re both tired now. Cock still inside, Hajime gently rests his weight on top of Tooru. 

“Iwa-chan, heavy,” Tooru slurs through the side of his mouth, face turned to Hajime, but he doesn’t move. He looks so soft, Hajime can’t help himself -- he leans down to capture the plush pout of Tooru’s lips in a languid kiss, slow and indulgent, then pulls out carefully, to Tooru’s displeasure. “Didn’t say you could move.” 

“Gotta clean up, Tooru,” Hajime whispers. The mist between his ears has dissipated, replaced by a hundred and one thoughts competing for top priority in his head: it’s so late, he has to grab another duvet from the closet, throw this one in the wash, pick up their clothes from the floor, convince Tooru to shower -- 

Tooru, the lump, simply rolls away from the wet spot and opens his arms to Hajime, looking deliciously fucked out with sleepy eyes and messy hair and come trickling down his thighs, and Hajime feels something swell inside of him, an ache so tender and so infinite, a feeling he’d long-ago associated with Tooru; Hajime’s mental checklist disappears, and all he wants to do is go to bed.

_Work can wait_ , Hajime thinks, shutting off the bedroom light and crawling into Tooru’s embrace. He wouldn’t give this up for the world. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> there is absolutely no excuse for this filth. i hope you enjoyed!
> 
> come say hi on [twitter](https://twitter.com/babyseijoh) !


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